Kindle My Heart
by Lea of Mirkwood
Summary: While in the Houses of Healing, Éowyn finds solace, healing, and unexpected joy in the companionship of Meriadoc Brandybuck, and reconsiders her despair. She also finds joy in the company of Faramir, to Meriadoc's growing dismay. Please read and review.
1. As the moon kindles the night

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Éowyn awoke in a cold sweat, still barely strong enough to lift her head. Her dreams terrified her. They were filled with dark riders, cold shadows and terror. Nothing took them away, except the periodic visits from her brother, Éomer. Shivers racked her body as she remembered standing over the body of her king Théoden and looking at the dark shadow of the Nazgûl King. Flashes of his sword slicing downward into her arm race through her mind and the cold breath washing over her face. She felt a cold rush fly over her clammy skin at the memory. Terror once again gripped her.

If it hadn't died...

Éowyn heard a creak as the heavy wooden door of her room opened. She lifted her head with a great effort. No one. The door simply opened and closed. Éowyn's heart thudded in her chest. Nazgûl were invisible. They had no corporeal form. Men said when their cloaks were off, they were even more deadly and fearsome. No one had entered. They were angry with her for killing their king, and had come for her. The candles on her bedside table didn't cast enough light for her to see a shadow by. Did Nazgûl cast shadows? She was helpless now, with no sword. Nothing to save the shieldmaiden of Rohan now. She heard a small shuffling sound of footsteps. Did Nazgûl make noise when they walked? She lifted her head again.

"Who's there?" she called weakly. "Show yourself!"

A scraping noise came from the left side of her bed. She couldn't turn her head to see. She was too weak.

"Lady Éowyn?" asked a high voice. A small noise escaped her throat. A brown, curly head popped up next to her face. Éowyn recognized a halfling.

"Lady Éowyn, do you remember me?" he asked tentatively, and all the pieces fell into place. The scraping noise was the halfling getting a stool to stand on. "I'm Merry. Meriadoc Brandybuck. You let me ride with you because I was so small."

Éowyn lifted her hand and placed it on Merry's cheek. "Merry," she whispered. He placed his own small hand over hers against his cheek. "My dear, sweet Merry. You saved my life."

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	2. As the wind kindles the fire

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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Merry ducked his head shyly. "Why did you go?"

Éowyn sighed and turned her head to the side. "I wished to defend my home. As did you, little one."

Merry looked away with a hint of shame. "You are strong, and I even need someone to hold me on a horse."

__

But you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. When you stood on the field facing the shadow and your hair flew out behind you like a golden banner you were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

But Éowyn couldn't hear that. Because he only thought it. He stayed silent for a moment until he worked up his courage. He fancied that this terrified him a bit more than facing the Nazgûl. No. No, the Nazgûl was worse.

"Éowyn," said Merry tremulously. "You are beautiful."

Éowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan and daughter of kings, let out a short, humorless laugh. "Even now? Even now you think this of me, when I am too weak to lift my head, cannot lift a spoon to feed myself?"

Merry nodded solemnly. "Yes."

Éowyn shook her head brokenly. "But I am only a shieldmaiden...and even now that is taken from me."

Merry's heart pounded in his chest as he gazed at Éowyn, a broken dove - no, like a hawk – laying on the bed with her golden hair fanned out over the pillow.

"It's taken from me, too," he stammered. "I mean, I can't fight either. They're leaving tomorrow, my cousin and all my friends and I won't be able to go with them. And my other cousin, the Ringbearer Frodo and Sam are already gone and they may be dead.

Until that moment Merry had never really come to terms with the idea that Frodo and Sam were never coming back. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it and hit the pillow next to Éowyn's face.

"And I'll never see them again," he whispered. "Éowyn, Éowyn you need to live. Live for all of us."

Éowyn smiled softly. "Oh, Merry, I will not die for a long time. But I think you weren't really talking to me then." Tears welled up in her own eyes. "My king is dead. My uncle. I stood over his body."

Merry cast his eyes upward in despair. "King Théoden was a father to me for a time. My heart weeps to think of him. Oh Éowyn, his last words were of you! 'Dearer than daughter,' he said to me. But he did not see you. I tried to tell him but he was gone."

"Merry," whispered Éowyn. "You did best. Darling, beloved, blessed Merry. You saved my life. Somehow when I needed aid you were there."

Merry looked down. "I looked at you and just thought you shouldn't die." _So desperate, so fair._

Éowyn smiled sleepily and her eyes slowly closed as she drifted into sleep. Merry looked down at the fair Éowyn, whose desperate beauty had been enough to kindle his heart and made him face the evil. That same evil had held him captive in Bree, but now he had overcome it. Merry reached over and gently smoothed her hair back from her brow. He gazed at this lovely woman before him. Bending down, he kissed her pale cheek reverently. He paused for a moment and than placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

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	3. As the rain fills every ocean

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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Merry slowly edged out of the door and stepped into the hall. He leaned up against the solid wood and let out a tiny laugh of wonder. He brought his fingers up to his lips in wonder. It felt like he had just been falling, falling, falling through fire and wind and was now floating. That's what it felt like. Éowyn. That had been the most foolish thing he'd ever done in his life. What if she had woken up?

What _was_ this?

How does she _do_ this?

He took a few steps away from her door before being struck motionless again at the thought of what he had just done. It seemed almost wrong to even think it so simply. Kissing Éowyn. Living his life for 34 years had taught him nothing. Nothing about life, or what it was like to feel something so deeply you could face down pure evil to preserve it. Walking with the Ents had given him a little touch of something he couldn't describe, other than height. Intangible, elusive it shifted about in his mind. Seeing something so ancient and wise moved him deeply and made him feel like he was finally a part of something that really mattered. Walking with the Fellowship had at first been tedious, but then it became apparent that he was in over his head, meddling in things he might never understand. This point driven home by Gandalf quite firmly. But Éowyn, who was younger than he, seemed to understand it effortlessly. He stepped forward again, this time heading resolutely towards the dining hall, and no more stopping for any more reveries. He was already being stared at.

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	4. And the sun the earth

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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"What do you see?" asked Éowyn with a small smile, craning her neck to watch Merry. He peered out the window facing north. 

"The City is quiet. All the people are inside. But wait!" he cried, beginning to fabricate a fantasy. "It's a festival!"

"Oh really?" laughed Éowyn merrily* and looked closely at the halfling. "Are you joking?"

"No!" cried Merry. "It is true! As sure as my name is...now..." he trailed off, pretending to look confused. "What was my name again?" he asked.

Éowyn laughed harder, a sound she realized she had not made for far too long. This halfling made her feel happy again. "I think it was...Tom. Was it?"

Merry hopped down from the stool and marched over to her bed. He leaned over her until their noses bumped. "I don't know. What about you? What's your name again?"

"Éowyn!" replied the White Lady with an air of happiness.

"Are you sure?" asked Merry quite seriously. "I thought I heard it once to be...Dernhelm."

He jumped back and was back at the window before Éowyn had a chance to start laughing again. As Merry described to her the fantasy festival, she though about everything that had happened. She felt like she was being jerked around on a chain at the whim of something else. First she fell deeply for Aragorn, the dark stranger who had come into her life and turned everything upside down and saved everything from darkness. Then she was held back, and it seemed that Aragorn rejected her as she gazed down at him from atop the hill at Edoras. Then as she rode away, she knew there was nothing left for her to live. And her uncle was dead. But here she was, laughing joyously with another wounded soldier of Rohan. Just days after her King, her uncle was gone from this world and she was sharing such happiness with another. She knew she felt guilt, but the greater feeling was relief. She had though she would never feel happy again, nor would she ever be able to laugh again. Now again she focused on what Merry was saying.

"I felt so out of place," he was saying. "In that little cabin in the Old Forest. But it felt real, and also not real to me. Hard to explain."

Éowyn suddenly thought of her brother. "My window does not face east," she whispered. Merry stopped and tilted his head. 

"What was that?" he asked politely. Éowyn blushed and felt sorry for interrupting him.

"My window does not face east. I cannot see where my kin have gone."

Merry sobered and nodded gravely. "Nor can I."

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* No pun intended.


	5. With your heart kindle my heart

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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Merry sat down at a stone bench in the gardens outside the Houses of Healing. The sweet flowers smiled up at him, out of place in the darkness. He could see no stars, even though it was dark as night. Somehow he had been left behind. Forever and ever he had been protecting his dear little cousin Pippin. Pippin, the youngster who had run into a beehive and had to be saved by – who else? – Merry. Pippin, who nearly drowned in the Brandywine and had to be brought out by Frodo, Merry and Fatty Bolger. And now it was Merry who was left behind, and Pippin who had gone ahead. Possibly, thought Merry solemnly, possibly Pippin was going ahead of him in another way. Merry shivered. Hobbits did not live forever. It scared Merry slightly that he might never see those who went off ever again. But if they did not succeed, then he would be seeing them very shortly.

"Hello," a voice interrupted Merry's reverie. He frowned. Lots of things seemed to be interrupting his reveries these days. The hobbit turned around, wincing slightly as a pain shot through his still-injured arm. He recalled exactly _why_ he'd had to stay behind. Standing in the pathway with a bandage across his chest and arm was a tall man. He had a fair face and stern grey eyes. Something about his countenance flashed familiarity in Merry's mind. His light brown hair just grazed his shoulders, and the lightest shadow of a beard dusted his jaw. Merry's jaw dropped.

"_Boromir!_" he gasped, paling. The man chuckled and shook his head.

"Not Boromir, Master Halfling, but his brother Faramir." Faramir stepped closer to where Merry was sitting and shook his head again, ruefully. "Until I met you halflings, I had never before been told quite so bluntly how much I resemble my brother."

Merry shook his head also, but he was trying to shake the memory of Boromir's grey eyes away with the sharp* movement. Then he looked back up at Faramir and was able to see the many differences.

"Not so much you look the same, Master Faramir, but only it is as if there is a shadow of Boromir behind you, or above you. Something is the same. Possibly your eyes. It's just...you put me in mind of you, and it took a second to chase away the thought." Merry blinked hard, still trying to get rid of the odd feeling that Boromir was standing next to him. "You..._feel _like Boromir, but a little less hasty."

Faramir lifted his shoulders briefly (wincing) and cocked his head to the side. "That's a different way of putting it. So you were a friend of Boromir?"

Merry nodded emphatically. "Yes, as much as I could be in such a short while. He was kind to us halflings, and taught us to fight well, without just hacking at things blindly."

"Really? I thought that's what Boromir did in battle. Odd," said Faramir, smiling at the memory of good-natured banter between brothers. Merry looked puzzled for a moment, but then shrugged.

"You are not riding out either?" he asked Faramir.

"No, I am not. I wish I were and am glad I am not. I have seen overmuch of fighting, but it is still the last battle, and I wish to be there, instead of caught up in this cage." Faramir seemed to remember something important and sat down next to Merry so they were almost eye-level. "You were a friend to Frodo son of Drogo and Samwise Gamgee?"

Merry's eyes widened. "Frodo is my cousin, and Sam a great friend."

Faramir nodded. "I had heard as much. Then you would be happy to know that when I last saw them they were alive and well."

Merry was shocked and amazed. Frodo, Sam...alive? "You have spoken with them?"
    
    "Yes, I have. The Ring weighs more heavily with Frodo now, and he feels its weight with fear, but they are going onwards. He is quite thin, your kinsman. They were being led to a pass in the mountains called Cirith Ungol by a shifty creature called Gollum, or Sméagol. That worried me most of all. But when we parted they were safe and well. I gave them food and drink and two good walking sticks to go on with. But they were well."

"This is good news indeed, Faramir!" cried Merry, clasping Faramir's hand in his. "Thank you! I had feared my friends to be dead or worse. Thank you!" The hobbit paused. "Are you feeling better?"

Faramir nodded and flexed his arm. "I am, yes. I think they're giving me the free run of the place to make up for making me stay behind."

Merry smiled, despite the sad circumstances. "That seems about right."

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"kjrtffffghed32V VQ" This was my ferret attempting to help me write this fic. I appreciate the effort, Gwen, but I think I can take it from here.


	6. Take my hand, take my heart

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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Merry smiled cheerfully, like he hadn't done for a long time. "So, my lady, are you ready to get up?"

Éowyn lifted her head briefly to give the Brandybuck a skeptical look. "Stand?"

"Stand. Look, I am just about the right height for an arm rest or a crutch!" he said, spinning slowly around to demonstrate. Éowyn sighed and propped herself up on her elbow. "All right, all right. But I worry I may be too heavy, and too weak to support myself."

Merry smiled again. "My lady, I am sure you are as light as a feather."

He sat down on the mattress next to her and looked down expectantly. She sighed again and held out her left arm.

"All right, Master Meriadoc. Help me up, then."

Merry did, and Éowyn was as surprised as he at how easily he helped her out and up. They smiled at each other, and Éowyn took a shaky step. A broad smile spread over her face as she realized she had done it.

"I did it!" she cried joyously. "I did it!"

Merry laughed at her amazement, almost childlike in its wonder. As they took a few more shaky steps he looked up at her face. Her brow creased in concentration, and her grey eyes narrowed as she took her careful steps. His gaze inadvertently strayed to her lips and he wondered fleetingly what it would be like to have her kiss him back. He shook his head, trying to stop himself from thinking that.

"You get stronger every day, my lady Éowyn," said Merry with a smile, a secret smile, because he was still thinking what he shouldn't be. Éowyn kissed the top of his head and didn't notice how his cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

"It's thanks to you, my dear Merry. You have kept me happy, and I am healing faster. I think I am almost healed now!"

She tottered unexpectedly, and Merry wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from using the table as an impromptu bed. The hobbit laughed out loud as Éowyn glared at him.

"I suppose, my lady, you're not so healed."

Éowyn scowled at Merry, irritated at having one of her shortcomings pointed out to her by someone who only came up to her chest in height. "Silence, Merry!"

Merry lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug, then blinked up at her and frowned. "Don't scowl. Gives you jowls, not attractive." *

The White Lady of Rohan obligingly put her hands to her face and pulled the sides of her mouth up in a fake smile. "Better?"

"No."

"Oh."

Merry helped Éowyn sit down in a chair near the door, then walked over to the wooden door, which was open a crack. He peered out, checking for people in the hallway. He looked back over at Éowyn, who was trying to braid her hair with one hand to keep it out of her face. "Do you think we can sneak past the healers and go into the garden?"

Éowyn looked up at Merry, her face lighting up at this suggestion. "Really? There is no one in the halls?"

Merry checked once more to be sure. "Perhaps a fly or two, but nothing to raise the alarm."

Éowyn nodded emphatically. "Yes, that would be wonderful. Let's try to make it to the garden."

Merry helped her to her feet again, and then after a few frustrated sighs and archaic swearing at the impossibly heavy door whacking their backsides, they were in the hall. Éowyn straightened her back and sighed in contentment.

"Feel that, Merry."

He looked up at her, but she was looking down the hall to the door leading to the gardens, the breeze ruffling the slight wisps of hair framing her face.

"Feel what?"

"Freedom."

Merry smiled. "I feel it, and I can smell the flowers, too. Let's go to them."

Éowyn nodded, and took hold of Merry's shoulder again, using him for support as they slowly made their way down the hall. Finally they were at the door to the garden. Merry swung it open and they stepped outside into the garden. Éowyn sighed sadly and her shoulders slumped. Merry looked up in concern.

"What is it, Éowyn?" he asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"

The shieldmaiden shook her head. "I had forgotten..." She trailed off, then spoke again. "The sky darkened, and no more sun to be seen."

Merry realized suddenly that he had grown used to the endless night, and the coldness it brought to Gondor. Éowyn had been in her room, with torches and candles to light the room to a near-normal brightness, but here there was not even a moon, just a vast expanse of clouds passing over. The flowers were duller in the dark, and not as lovely. Merry silently led her to one of the stone benches under a lattice of rose vines.

"It is not so lovely as it would be in the light, Éowyn," said Merry softly. "But when the sun comes out again they will be even more beautiful than before, because we will have missed them so much. And they are pretty yet."

He reached over to a bush and picked a white flower from the branch and squinted at it. "This is a flower they never had in the Shire," he said absently. Éowyn lifted it from his fingers and looked at it closely.

"It's called a white star in the language of the Rohirrim," she said, and spoke a lyrical word in her native tongue that Merry would remember the rest of his life. "I do not know what they call it in Gondor." She handed the blossom back to Merry, who set it on the bench next to him. Éowyn reached back with her left arm and tried to pull her hair back again, using her bandaged right arm to try and keep her flaxen hair out of her eyes. The wind overhead made soft noises at them, but they weren't evil sounds this time, only mischievous noises.**

"Here," said Merry. "I have a lot of girl cousins, and I can braid hair." He took the ribbon from Éowyn's hand and had her turn away from him. He deftly divided her hair into three bunches and expertly began to plait her long hair. "I remember my cousin Pippin's sisters, especially Pearl, used to get their hair tangled up in the rope swing they kept in the tree. Pippin, who was much younger than her, would come screaming to me that Pearl had gotten her hair tangled again." Merry laughed. "She learned, after a while, to braid her hair _before_ going on the swing."

Éowyn laughed, imagining a much smaller Merry untangling his cousin's hair from a rope. "You sound like you had a happy childhood."

"I did," reflected Merry. "The Shire is a wonderful place. You should visit there sometime. I'll show you everything."

"I would love to."

"There!" said Merry, tying the ribbon around Éowyn's hair. "Braided." He picked up the white star flower and tucked it in her hair over her ear. She smiled at him, reaching back to touch the braid.

"Thank you, Merry," she said with a smile, and kissed him on the cheek.

From a window further up in the Houses of Healing, the young Steward of Gondor looked down at the two in the garden with soft grey eyes.

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* - Becky. I couldn't resist using that little expression, it was just too perfect. (Everyone, go read Zeech's fanfiction!!!)

** - In the very end of the movie Forces of Nature, with Sandra Bullock and Ben Affleck, there's a scene between Ben Affleck and Maura Tierney that has the same kind of feel as I was trying to get in this scene, a sort of dreamlike darkness, with a cool breeze.

To shirebound: You will notice the change in summary? Thanks for the suggestion, and thank you for the review. Your stories are wonderful.

Look soon for four new fics!!! Two Arwen/Aragorn companion pieces based on the appendices, a simple fluff type romance (testing the waters...) with an Elf OC and Legolas (no following on quest, no real sueishness, just fluff inspired by sappy books) and a fanfic with an unusual OC set in Rohan.

Come on, click the review button. When no one reviews, I am afraid no one is reading!

Click it. It's your friend.


	7. Kindle it with your heart

A/N: Hello. Thank you all for you patience with my short chapters and erratic updates. There are three more chapters left after this, and then an author's note containing lyrics to the song this is titled after. ^^

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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Éowyn was sitting on the bench in the dim light, her skin as pale as the white star flower in her hair. Her grey eyes were cast downward with an almost dreamlike expression. Her lashes, coal-black, lay softly against her cheek like feathers. For a moment as the wind whistled through the trees and down into the gardens, bringing with it smoke and dust, Merry was reminded of a time that seemed so long ago, of a fair lady in the Old Forest called the river-daughter. He shivered slightly as the cold wind ruffled his curls. The wind from Mordor was hot at times, like standing some ways away from a bonfire on a cool night, but then it turned cold and sharp. Everything around him seemed blue and pale. It was all like a dream. He tipped his head back, looking up at the sky. Leaves, dark and shiny on the top and red on the bottom, swirled through the air on the wind like snow. Petals, white, gold and pink, ripped from their flowering trees and shrubbery,* flew about, circling like dervishes around their heads and catching in their hair. 

"Merry?" asked Éowyn softly, and Merry whirled to face her.

"Yes, Éowyn?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm getting a bit chilled. Can we head back to my room? I'd like it if the window stay open, though."

"Of course!" agreed Merry. "Of course. Here, take my arm."

She linked her arm in his and shakily stood up, but more steadily than she had before. Merry thought fleetingly, whimsically, that he was helping to heal her. They made it back to her room with almost no commotion, and without being caught by the warden. No one, seeing them, would have realized that the smaller of the two, the same height as a child, was ten years older than the tall lady. Before letting Éowyn further into the room, he ran over to the window and opened it wide, facing the garden. He turned back to her and smiled, then walked back over to take her arm. Merry helped Éowyn lay back down, and pulled the covers back over her body and up to her shoulders. She laughed lightly, the happy sound carrying out of the window and across the garden. A swift gust of wind puffed into the room, bringing with it an unexpected shower of petals. The soft little things floated across to Éowyn's bed and lay on top of her sheets. She smiled.

"I suppose this it my bed of roses," she said wryly, raising an eyebrow. Merry chuckled and dusted the petals out of his hair.

"I suppose it is. You know," he said thoughtfully. "In it's own way, this is pretty. The darkness and the wind. It's all like a dream...that could just fade away, if we don't remember it."

Still with the foggy, dreamy look in his brown eyes, he turned back to Éowyn and bent over her, his nose bumping hers and his curly brown hair brushing her forehead.

"We have to remember it, Éowyn, or it'll fade away...like the Ents. They will be forgotten. And this would be forgotten."

Suddenly he worked up his courage, the slow-kindled courage of the Shire-folk, and kissed her softly. Éowyn's eyes widened in shock, but then she reached up and placed her fingers on his temple lightly. It felt to Merry like she had branded him. She kissed him back- but the moment he leaned away she sighed and closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep. Merry tilted his head to the side quizzically, plucking another flower petal from behind his sharply pointed ear and laying it on Éowyn's bed. A broad smile slowly crept over his face until he was so happy he felt like he was glowing.

But Éowyn's laughter had carried across the garden to the ears of the young steward with the soft grey eyes.

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* - *crows* We want...A SHRUBBERY!


	8. And my heart cannot be

A/N: A lot of this is straight from The Steward and the King, and Faramir's speech is preserved in its entirety because it's so beautiful.

A/N Five hours after first A/N was written: I have now had someone call me a lovely flower myself, so Faramir's speech moves me even more than it did before.

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

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Merry would not be coming around for another few hours, recalled Éowyn. He had needed to go speak with a friend of his cousin's for a while, and then go attend to some unfinished business. She smiled, and slowly swung her legs over the side of her bed. She called her handmaidens in to attend to her, and was dressed in her best gown of midnight blue and her ladies set her arm in a linen sling. Shooing the women from her side, she walked out into the hall, head held high. The Warden's room was not far off, and she was able to make her way there without falling or becoming unsteady on her feet. The Warden was seated at his desk, writing in a notebook. He rose automatically at her presence, and before he could say anything to her she spoke.

"Sir," she said. "I have become restless, and cannot lie longer in sloth."

The Warden tried to take her right arm gently to lead her back, but she pulled it away. "Lady," he protested, distressed by her sharp movement. "You are not yet healed. I was bidden to not let you rise until seven days hence! I beg of you, let me guide you back to your bed so you may heal."  
"I am healed, sir, in body at least. My left arm is yet to be completely healed, it is still broken, but I am able to walk, and thus able to work. But I will be sick again if I cannot do anything here. Have you tidings of war? My women tell me nothing." Or rather, Merry tells me nothing, because he has heard nothing.

"No tidings, my lady, save that our lords have ridden to Morgul Vale. But please, my lady, you must rest. You are but a woman, and the men with their swords shall protect you. You need not worry."

"Those without swords can still die upon them," said Éowyn sharply.* "That point, I think, has been amply demonstrated here and also in Rohan. Given the choice between laying about and letting myself completely heal here, doing nothing and dying in bitter pain, in this dark hour I would still choose the latter."

Éowyn knew she was going to waver on her feet in front of the Warden and her face paled. She leaned forward and gripped the desk, masking her unsteadiness by making her appear as though she was leaning forward to make her point. She turned her head to look out the window facing the East.

"Is there nothing I can do?" she asked softly, then turned to look at the Warden again, her voice becoming strong again. "Who commands this city?"

"Truly, my lady, I do not know. It is not my business to know. There is a marshal over the Riders of Rohan, and some others. But the Lord Faramir is by right the Steward of the City."

Hope rose anew in Éowyn's heart. "Where can I find him?"

"In this very house, my lady. He was sorely hurt in battle, and is now healing. But I do not know-"

"Bring me to him," interjected Éowyn. "Then you will know."

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The first time Éowyn saw Faramir he was looking up at the sky, where the bright sun was peeking through the thick clouds like it had not done for a long time. The yellow rays of the sun fell on his face, and Éowyn saw him to be handsome, but it was like she noticed this as if looking at a painting. It never occurred to her to love him. 

"Lord Faramir," spoke the Warden, and Faramir turned to look at them, and Éowyn saw his eyes soften when he looked at her. "Here is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan. She rode with the king and was sorely hurt in slaying the Witch King of Angmar. But she is not content in my keeping, and wished to speak with you."

"Do not misunderstand my discontent for disdain for your city's care, my lord," said Éowyn quickly. "But I am caged here, idle. I looked for death in battle, and was saved and did not die, and battle still goes on and I am caged again."

Faramir waved his hand absently towards the Warden, who departed, but Faramir's gaze did not once leave Éowyn's face. Her beauty seemed to turn him into a fool, and all his training in courtesy and tact flew away from him.

"What would you have me do?" he said slowly, staring in shock at Éowyn. "I am caged too. I am also their prisoner."

Éowyn looked at Faramir's face and saw the face of a warrior, unmatched in battle, though his eyes were soft with tenderness. She saw pity, mercy and battle.

"What do you wish?" he asked her. "If it is in my power I will do it."

"I..." faltered Éowyn, stunned by his offer. She looked up at this taller man and prayed he would not simply think her a wayward child. She began to doubt herself, and her mind swam. She finished her statement in the proudest tone she could muster. "I would have you command this Warden to let me go."

Faramir looked away with a great sigh. "That I cannot do for you, my lady. We must wait and heal."

"But I do not wish to heal!" burst out Éowyn. "I want to ride to war, like my brother, or better my uncle, Théoden King who now lies with the dead."

"You are far too late to ride with the captains, my lady, even if you had the strength. But death may come to us all yet. We must endure the hours of waiting."

Éowyn bit her lip and looked down, and her pride slipped from her. A lone tear fell down her cheek and she did not touch it. The tear lingered there on her cheek, and then ran down her jaw and down her throat.

"But the healers would have me lie abed for seven days yet," she whispered to herself. "And my window does not look eastward."

Faramir managed a smile, though his heart ached with pity. "Your window does not look eastward? That can be easily amended. This I will command the Warden. If you will stay here within the Warden's care, you shall walk in the garden freely and your window will look eastward. And here in the garden you will find me, walking and waiting and looking also east. It would ease my care if you would walk with me at whiles or speak with me, for I do know you will walk and speak with the halfling Meriadoc."

Éowyn looked back up at Faramir evenly and coolly, a color coming into her cheeks again. "How should I ease your care, lord?" she asked, not quite concealing her curiosity.

"Would you have me answer honestly and plainly?" he said.

"I would have it."

"Then, Éowyn of Rohan, I say to you that you are beautiful. In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still; but neither flower nor lady have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely, and so sorrowful. It may be that only a few days are left ere darkness falls upon our world, and when it comes I hope to face it steadily; but it would ease my heart, if while the Sun yet shines, I could see you still. For you and I have both passed under the winds of the Shadow and the same hand drew us back."

Éowyn pulled back, taking a staggering step in her shock. Her cheeks blushed a deep red and then paled white as snow. "Not me, my lord," she cried. "Nay, not me. Shadow lies on me still. Look not to me for healing! But I do thank you," she continued, backing slowly away. "for at least, that I am not kept to my chamber. I will walk abroad by the grace of the Steward of the City." She bowed her head and walked back to the house, feeling more steady on her feet than she had before meeting the Steward.

Faramir watched her go, and stayed in the garden for a long time after. But his soft grey eyes strayed more 

to the house rather than to the eastern sky.

--- --- ---

* Ha ha ha. Stop laughing, Becky.

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	9. Kindled without you

A/N: I love having time to write. Enter Merry's Heartbreak Hotel. Um...only one change, and that was artistic liscence. I'll explain at the bottom. (Ehehehe...Nick Bottom. Ready! Name what part I am to play and proceed. You, Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. What is Pyramus? A lover or a tyrant? A lover who kills himself for love. I am better in the part of a tyrant.) (I'll stop now. Flute shall stop now.)

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

--- --- ---

"Tell me about the lady Éowyn," said Faramir excitedly, leaning forward. Merry stared at him incredulously.

"What?" he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. Faramir smiled secretly. Merry didn't like that.

"Tell me about her. She seems so sad."

"Well her uncle died next to her. Does that tell you much?"

Faramir paled, and looked down. "Was she close to him? Her uncle, I mean. The king."

Merry looked to the side, trying not to reveal how much he cared about Éowyn's life. "He was like her father."

Faramir nodded, and looked up at the window that was now Éowyn's. "Why does she stay cold all the time?"

Merry was startled by this question, but then remembered how Éowyn had been* before she had been more open with him and spoke to him. It must be that way with Faramir.

"She's not at home, Faramir. She's been gravely hurt and she's in a strange land, without her brother, without her uncle, without anyone. You've got to understand that before you can understand anything about Éowyn."

Faramir nodded. "My heart goes out to her. She's lovely."

Merry bristled jealously. "She's like a flower." _My flower._

Faramir nodded. "I understand. More than you know. More than you know."

The two walked in the garden all that day, but Éowyn did not come down.

--- --- ---

But the next morning, as the sun was beginning to rise and the dew gleaming on the flowers, Faramir found Éowyn standing on the eastward wall clad in a gown of white. He called to her and she came down from the wall and spoke with him. They spent the day together, and the day after that, and then Éowyn spent two days with Merry, and on the fifth day when Faramir and Éowyn stood again on the walls of the house.

"It is cold today," she said quietly. Faramir smiled and pulled something our from behind his back. It was a midnight blue mantle with embroidered silver stars. The soft blue of the fabric shone in the sunlight as Faramir whirled it about and placed it on Éowyn's shoulders.

"It was my mother's," he said quietly. Éowyn looked up at him in surprise. Why is he giving me something of his mother's to wear?

"Her name was Finduilas," he said, half to himself. "She died when I was very young."

Éowyn gently fingered the edge of the mantle. "Thank you, my lord."

Faramir looked away, trying to conceal his face. "Please, lady Éowyn, call me Faramir."

Éowyn shivered underneath the warm starry mantle, and it was not completely from the cold. The wind whipped from the north, freezing and biting and bringing tears to her eyes from it's sharpness.

"What do you look for, Éowyn?" asked Faramir.

"The Black Gate lies in that way, am I not correct?" she answered, narrowing her eyes against the wind. "It has been seven days yet since they rode away."

"Yes," said Faramir, standing behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders lightly. "Seven days. But please do not think ill of me if I say that those seven days have brought me a joy and a pain I never thought to know. Joy to see you' but pain, because now the fear and doubt of this evil time are grown dark indeed. Éowyn, I would not have this world end now yet I lose so soon what I have found."

"Lose what you have found, lord?" said Éowyn, deliberately formal. She ducked away from his arms and looked up at him gravely. "I do not know what you have found in these days that you could lose. But please, let us not speak of this," she said quickly, seeing he was about to speak again. "Let us not speak at all."

Faramir stared at her, at her face and whispered. "Nay, I would not have us speak."

"I wait for the stroke of doom," said Éowyn firmly, and turned back to the east. Faramir stepped next to her and looked also.

"Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom."

As they stood upon the wall together it seemed as though the world halted. The wind ceased to blow and it grew dark again. Silence, a deep oppressive silence, filled the air. The birds did not call, the bushes did not rustle, and Merry did not stir as he looked up at Faramir and Éowyn on the wall. In this frozen moment of terror, Faramir reached over to touch Éowyn's hand in reassurance, but her hand clutched at his. They laced their fingers together and looked out towards Mordor and the cold stillness.

"It reminds me of Númenor," said Faramir absently.

"Of Númenor?" asked Éowyn, suddenly becoming aware of the warmth of Faramir's hands around hers, and was glad of it. She made no move to pull away.

"Yes. I often dream of it. It seems so like this. The great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills and coming on, darkness unescapable."

Éowyn cringed at the idea, flinched in fear. "Then you do think that darkness is coming?" she asked in a light voice, almost like the whisper of the wind. "Darkness unescapable?" She leaned back against Faramir without knowing she did, and he held both her small hands in one of his, and put his other arm around her thin shoulders.

"No," he said, looking down at her head resting against his chest. Her face was upturned, looking up at him and her skin shone like the moon. "It was but a picture in my mind. My mind tells me that great evil is falling, and that we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay. I feel as light as a wind. A hope and a joy is in my heart that no reason can deny."

They looked deep into each other's eyes. Faramir felt his heart quake for the first time out of battle as he looked into Éowyn's eyes, which were the color of the Great River on a cloudy day.

"Oh, Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan," cried Faramir. "In this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!"

He bent his head down and kissed her on the forehead fiercely and then held her close. She wound her fingers in the edge of Faramir's tunic as if something wild and cruel was trying to snatch her away. Just then a great wind rose up and blew. They staggered in its force, and for a brief moment they thought that the dark wave was indeed climbing over the fields and the hills.

"Éowyn," cried Faramir and cupped her face in his hands. Tears sprang to both of their eyes as their hearts said that this was the end of days. He pulled her to him and kissed her softly and sweetly as the wind roared around them. Again the petals were ripped from their flowerbushes and danced around them like butterflies, catching in their hair and clothing. Their hair streamed out and mingled in the air. Tears ran down Éowyn's face and she made no move to wipe them away. And the Shadow departed, and the sun was unveiled and light leaped forth and the waters of the Anduin shone like silver and in all the houses of the City men sang for the joy that welled up in their hearts.

But in all the joy there was one who was crying as though his heart was breaking.

--- --- ---

Oh man. I cried writing all that. I don't think ANYTHING is more romantic than Faramir and Éowyn.

Note to Miss Cam: Bomir is doing fine. For some reason he seems to prefer the _brown _raw eggs to the white ones.

Check out my fic Another Brick in the Wall! It requires no prior knowledge of the really bad movie it was based on. Well, I mean, the characters weren't bad, and the dialogue was pretty sharp – except for the excessive use of the word that rhymes with 'pluck' – but the plot of the alien invasion was reeeally bad and the ending sucked.

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	10. With your heart kindle my heart

A/N: Well, this is the last chapter of plot. Thank you to all of my reviewers and readers. There is one more chapter to go, and that is only a long author's note and an applicable song or two.

A/N #2: Spot the cameo!

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Kindle My Heart

Lea of Mirkwood

--- --- ---

Faramir brought the Lady of Rohan before the Warden and beamed, linking his arm with hers.

"Here is the White Lady of Rohan, and now she is healed."

The Warden looked at her and saw no falter to her step and her arms seemed to move more freely. The color had returned to her cheeks and a smile graced her lips.

"Yes," he said softly. "Yes, she is healed. I release from my care...to yours."

Faramir put his arm around Éowyn's shoulders and they left the room, only to be met by a halfling.

"Merry!" cried Éowyn, all the memories of the past several days rushing back into her mind. "Oh, Merry!"

He held up a hand and she fell silent. Looking up at her, she could see all the pain he felt etched into his face for a split second, but then it was gone.

"I am glad you found one another, Éowyn," he said, and smiled. In that smile he looked almost happy – if you didn't look in his eyes. In his soft eyes was a deep pool of pain and hurt that looked as though it would never be erased. But through it all he still loved Éowyn, even though the love was as painful as a knife in his heart, he loved her still.

--- --- ---

__

Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising

He rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;

Over death, over dread, over doom lifted

Out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.

Merry bent down and plucked a small blossom of simbelmynë from the green mound. It shone a bright white, like a star in a field of darkness. As the song of mourning rang out over the hills, Merry found he could not join in their song. His heart was too heavy. Joy and then pain, joy and then pain; that was what came here for him. Joy and then pain. The notes of the song swelled up, and some dam in him broke. He cast the flower down on the grass, fluttering like a feather, and fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and wept, feeling like the pieces of his broken heart were shattering further. When the song ended, he lifted his head and looked about at the mourning. Éowyn was weeping on Faramir's shoulder, and Merry's heart ached to see them. He cast his eyes about and saw the people of Rohan weeping, their eyes bright with tears. One woman had also fallen to her knees and was weeping inconsolably, her hair falling over her shoulders and spilling over onto the ground. Merry rose again and looked down at the burial mound, tears streaming down his face.

"Théoden King, Théoden King!" he cried brokenly. "Farewell! As a father you were to me, for a little while!"

His eyes met Éowyn's, and for a moment it seemed they wept together, alone, both weeping for a lost father. Merry wrenched his gaze away and looked up at Edoras.

"Farewell," he finished, pain clouding his words so they were little more than a whisper.

--- --- ---

When the feast of Éomer's coronation was near over, the new King arose and spoke to all.

"Now this is the funeral feast of Théoden the King; but I will speak ere we go of tidings of joy, for he would not grudge that I should do so, since he was ever a father to Éowyn my sister."

__

Not now! cried Merry's heart. _I do not wish to hear it!_

"Here then all my guests, fair folk of many realms, such as have never before been gathered in this hall! Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, asks that Éowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all."

Faramir and Éowyn linked hands and held the clasped hands so all could see.

"To Éowyn!" cried Faramir. "My wife and love!"

The crowd cheered and drank to the two. The cheering and banter between Éomer and Aragorn was simply noise in Merry's ears. He knew nothing until suddenly the voice of Éowyn rose into his mind as she spoke to Aragorn who was next to him.

"Wish my joy, my liege-lord and healer!" she said to him. Merry dimly heard Aragorn's reply, but all of his mind was focused on the shining gold of Éowyn's hair. Then she was in front of him, clasping his hands in hers. Merry had hoped some of his pull towards her would have lessened, and his heart would not ache as profoundly as it did. But none of the pain was gone, and he looked up into her grey eyes, so like the sea.

"Will you wish me joy as well, my dear Merry?" she whispered, only understanding half of his hurt. Merry smiled thinly.

"I wish it with all the pieces of my broken heart, Éowyn. Faramir was right to call you the loveliest of flowers, and Aragorn to call you fairest in all Rohan. I wish you so much happiness that you will never hurt again," he said brokenly, and lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her palm. Stunned by the tender gesture, Éowyn at once understood.

"Oh, Merry," she whispered.

--- --- ---

Saying farewell to Éowyn was the most painful thing Merry had ever had to do, save watching Théoden die before him. Éomer, once speaking words of farewell to him, stepped aside. Éowyn knelt before Merry and pulled out a small and ancient horn, wrought of silver with horses carved about it and winding from the mouth.

"This is an heirloom out our house. Eorl the Young brought it from the North, and made by the dwarves. He who blows it shall set fear in the hearts of his enemies and joy in the hearts of his friends, who shall come to his aid. This I give to you as a memorial of Dernhelm."

Merry smiled at the memory and looked into Éowyn's eyes. "If I had a gift to give to you as grand as this, I would give it to you, my lady. But the most valuable thing I have already given to you. I would give my life for you, as I have already demonstrated. All I can say to you is to remember me from time to time."

Éowyn nodded wordlessly, tears glistening in her eyes. Merry smiled.

"Remember the Houses of Healing, Éowyn."

Finally Éowyn spoke, her voice choked with tears. "I do remember. I will always remember. Here, dear Merry, is my memorial to those sweet days."

Éowyn gently touched the side of his face, and then cupped his face in her hands. She softly kissed his lips, a kiss so sweet and poignant tears sprang to both their eyes. Merry's heart, in one instant felt mended and then broken again, shattered. He pulled back to look into Éowyn's eyes, and smiled sadly at her.

"It was only a dream, Éowyn," he said slowly. "This is your happiness. This is your life."

He pushed back a lock of her golden hair.

"You were never mine to lose," he said, his voice breaking. They embraced tightly. Éowyn kissed his forehead and rose to her feet. Merry lifted her hand and kissed it for the last time. Then they stepped away and parted for that time.

--- --- ---

Merry was back in the Shire, back home. Time had passed. Éowyn was wedded to Faramir. Aragorn was king. Everything was changed. He looked up at the moon shining up in the sky. His heart still ached for the life he might have had, with Éowyn. But what life would it have been? No one of her people would have understood that he was a halfling. He was also only a soldier of the Mark. Éowyn was the sister of the king. What life would he have had? Bringing her back to the Shire would have been no better. A Brandybuck, wedding one of the Big Folk? Never. But this- Merry sighed as he looked up at the watchtower. He didn't like it. Sharkey's men had built it to watch over the hobbits in Brandy Hall, and now some of the hobbits had taken up residence in it, to watch for more ill favored characters.

This he could have. This he could love freely. The pain was still fresh in his heart, but he knew, like he knew that Rohan would recover, and that Éowyn would most likely forget him, that the pain would dull. It would fade, and soon only be a memory.

Still...

He turned away from the tower and walked back off into the night.

--- --- ---

The next night Merry came again to look up at the tower, and came back each day. The moon faded and then on the night it shone full once again, Merry made a decision. He stepped out into the torchlight below the tower. Clenching his fists, he tilted his head back and looked up at the top window.

"Estella!" he bellowed. "Estellaaaaaa!!!"

A shadowed head leaned out of the window, and long dark curls were clearly outlined by the moonlight.

"Who is there?" cried a high voice.

"It's me!" cried Merry. "Merry Brandybuck!"

"Merry!" cried Estella. "What is it?"

Merry laughed hoarsely and felt tears sting his cheeks. "I think I'm a little in love with you, Estella. Could you come down so I can ask you to marry me?"

He heard her gasp and then laugh joyfully. "Yes!" she cried, and ducked her head back in. A moment later she flew out the door and threw her arms around Merry's neck, her lovely blue eyes glistening with tears of joy.

"Now, Estella," said Merry, holding her tight. "Which question did you answer with a yes?"

"I-"

"No. Wait."

Merry got down on one knee and looked up into Estella's eyes, taking her hands in his. They were soft as flower petals, except for the palms, where calluses marred her soft hands. He knew his were hard and rough from wielding a sword, and had felt his skin snag the soft fabric of her sleeves. Her lower lip trembled as he looked into her sapphire eyes steadily.

"Estella Bolger," he whispered. "I come here to tell you a few things. I am sure you have heard rumors about some heartache from which I suffer." He paused a beat, trying to push away the image of Éowyn's stormy grey eyes. "It is true. My heart is wounded, Estella. But I would be honored if you would be the one to help me heal my heart. I do believe, as I said before, that I am a little in love with you. Estella, would you marry me?"

The hobbit woman burst into tears and fell to her knees in front of Merry. She reached for him and took his face in her hands, sobbing and laughing at the same time. Merry managed a choking laugh and they each tried to dry each other's tears away, but they kept falling like rain.

"Yes!" she cried, kissing Merry furiously, all over his face, on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his eyelids and his mouth. "Yes, I'll marry you, Merry Brandybuck! I love you! I love you so much!"

A heat grew in Merry's chest and it felt as though his heart was about to burst with joy. He threw back his head and cried out to the moon, "She says yes! Yes!"

Their laughter was carried up to the sky and to the moon.

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With your heart kindle my heart.

Did you find the cameo? Planning new fanfic...heehee...fun. 

Erk, cried writing this too. Cry, cry, cry. 

Am I the _only_ Théodenfan? Am I the _only_ one who reeeeally likes him?

How did you like the ending?

Review and tell me!


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